Summary: Logan has a headache. Roman helps him out.
CW: Description of headache.
Pairing: Logince (platonic or romantic)
Roman’s realm didn’t exactly follow the same rules of time (or physics, for that matter) as the rest of the mindscape, so it was not at all uncommon for him to return from a quest or an adventure to find it was the middle of the night.
It was also not uncommon for one of the other sides to still be up when he did. Typically it was Virgil, as the anxious side kept all sorts of ridiculous hours, but occasionally Roman would pass Logan’s door and hear the clack of him tapping away at his keyboard, or the scratch of him scribbling notes on his calendar.
What was somewhat unusual was finding Logan not only awake, but sitting not in his room, but in the commons, at three forty seven am, with no lights on at all.
So, understandably, Roman was…somewhat unprepared, when the sight greeted him.
Okay, he was very unprepared. He was startled.
(He may have even yelped. A little. But he did it heroically.)
Summary: Human AU Virgil has a conversation with his adoptive father after a getting into a fight at school.
Characters/Pairings: Romantic Moceit, paternal Anxceit and Moxiety
Notes: This is an AU that popped fully-formed into my head and I have tons of background info about it if anyone’s curious. All the Moceit feels right now, amirite?
Warnings: Mentions of homophobia, references to homophobic slurs, mentions of violence (schoolyard fight), mentions of injuries (minor), mentions of blood, self-deprecating thoughts, abandonment issues. Let me know if I missed anything I need to warn for!
*
A soft knock on Virgil’s door made him flinch, but he sighed, reaching up and pulling his headphones off his head. Time to face the music. “Come in,” he mumbled.
The door creaked open, and his dad’s fiance poked his head in. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”
“Already said you could.” Virgil shifted and reached up to brush his hair out of his face, wincing when his fingers bumped his bruised right eye.
“So you did.” Janus stepped into the bedroom and closed the door softly behind himself. Virgil swallowed, anxiety ratcheting up a little, and Janus paused, giving him a look that Virgil knew all too well. The one that said ‘I just read you like an open book.’ “Do you want me to leave it open?” he asked.
Virgil shrugged. “Don’t care,” he said, but the thought of being locked in with Janus–with anyone–still frightened him. He just sort of hated that Janus knew that, and knew without having to ask.
Janus raised his eyebrows, hand still lingering on the knob. “Second chance?” he offered.
Virgil sighed and slumped. “Maybe a little bit open?”
Janus nodded and opened the door about a foot. It was enough that Virgil could hear his dad (Patton? Should I be calling him Patton again? Or maybe–oh God please no–maybe Mr. Sanders?) in the kitchen, busy with dinner preparations. The sounds would have been comforting and familiar, if it hadn’t been for the notable absence of the usual string of singing, whistling, or talking to himself Patton usually engaged in. He swallowed again, wishing he could bury his face in his arms, but along with his eye, his lip was split and swollen, and while the nurse had claimed his nose to be unbroken, it still felt pretty awful. He’d stuffed two wads of toilet paper into his nostrils to stem the flow of blood, and he realized he hadn’t taken them out yet. He did so now, crumpling the blood-soaked tissue in his fist.
“You here to yell at me?” he mumbled, as Janus moved to settle into Virgil’s desk chair across from the bed.
Summary: After the events of Putting Others First (SvS Redux), Roman goes somewhere to think things through, with the help of an old enemy.
Characters: Roman, Dragon Witch, brief mentions of the rest
Notes: Roman kind of held me hostage until I wrote this. @sanders-sides-thuri assured me it wasn’t terrible so here it is. TY to her for listening to it and offering her input.
Warnings: Insecurity, a bit of angst (but with a hopeful ending)
*
Roman planted his feet and stared up at the tall, imposing structure before him.
The dragon witch’s castle could’ve been an amalgamation of any number of castles from childhood fairy tales. Perched precariously upon a cliff’s ledge, it looked to be a moment’s notice from tumbling directly into the crashing, churning waters beneath it, and its irrational towers jutted out in absurd but threatening directions. It could’ve been The Seeing Hand from Never Ending Story or King Haggard’s castle from the Last Unicorn or maybe just the castle of the Evil Queen–it was all of these and none, shifting and remaking itself as he stared at it, always striving for the ultimate evil form.
He sighed, then called: “Dragon witch!”
She appeared immediately, looming out from behind the castle that logic assured him she could never have fit inside–and yet somehow he knew she had been inside, just as surely as he knew the ever-shifting, ever-changing castle before him hadn’t really changed at all since he’d arrived. Things in the Imagination had a way of doing that: of existing at complete and total odds with reality in ways that should’ve been difficult to grasp but which Roman had always understood perfectly.
These days, it was reality that seemed to be giving him trouble.
“Aaaaah, princeling,” the dragon witch hissed, elongating the soft sound of the “c” into a sizzle. Her green eyes flashed at him, wicked and unambiguously evil, and that made sense. “You’ve come to challenge me once more? Foolish.”
And maybe he should. Maybe he should return her pre-programmed evil repartee with a bit of heroic banter of his own. It would be comforting: a familiar formula that made perfect sense, a good-guy bad-guy script he could follow blindfolded.
He let the temptation to do so rise and then ebb away again, however. He wasn’t here because things made sense.
“No,” he said, not really loud, not even loud enough to override the crashing waves or the rumble of distant, ominous thunder. But it didn’t matter. He could have whispered or he could have shouted: all the creatures in his domain heard him when he spoke.
Anxiety starts painting again after going a long time without so much as touching a brush. Thomas and the Lights always promise to come see his work, but seem to never come... Leading to one very distressed Anxiety.
This is inspired by this vent fic by @januceit, don't worry I made sure to ask him first before I decided to write this!
Pre-AA, canon to my au (up until CLBG, the sides were actually in the videos, but after that Thomas acted in them. With AA, Thomas created that storyline himself because this fic is what actually happened and he didn't know how to make it into a video.)
Also Logan knows Anxiety's name is Virgil, but also refers to him as Angel as he also goes by his middle name.
Pairings: implied prinxiety crush
Warnings: Crying, overworking
Anxiety headed down the ladder to the cellar, where he'd set up a small painting studio. He has his canvases, his brushes, plenty of paint, a closet for storage, and his favorite paintings were hung up on the walls. He was comfortable there, and felt safe.
He hadn't been down there in a long, long time.
But recently, he was struck with inspiration to pick up painting again. He had an idea for a beautiful painting, and wouldn't rest until it came to be.
The painting had turned out better than he'd hoped; a forest clearing, with butterflies fluttering around and glowing flowers on vines creeping up the trees. It was gorgeous, and Anxiety was proud of it.
He remembered how he'd gone to the next meeting Thomas called with a big smile on his face.
"What're you so happy about, kiddo?"
"Oh! I decided to get back into painting, and wondered if you'd like to come see? It turned out beautifully!"
They all promised they'd come see, but never got around to it.
So Anxiety tried again.
Running his brush along the canvas, bringing his ideas to life.
"Hey Princey, you like art right? I made another painting, and I think you'll really like it! It's an giant angel holding the human it guards."
"Wow. I wouldn't have expected something that sounds so wonderful from someone like you! No offense. I'll come to see it as soon as I'm done here."
He never came.
Anxiety kept trying.
His ideas were indeed coming to life, but not the ones he'd hoped would.
"Patton, hey! I finished my new painting. Do you want to come see it? It's a little bit darker, but I think you'll like it! It's a child hugging their cat as a fire burns in the background."
"Sounds lovely, kiddo! I'm a bit busy right now, but I'll come see it in a little bit, okay?"
Let down again.
Anxiety wouldn't give up.
With shaking hands, he touched the brush down on the canvas.
"Thomas...?"
"Not now, Anxiety. I need to work."
Anxiety swallowed the lump in his throat. No one ever came to see his beautiful work.
He sank out, going home.
His roommate was there on the couch.
"H-hey, do you... Want to come see my paintings?"
"I'd love to, but my neck totally doesn't hurt at all."
Anxiety sighed. "Where's Remus?"
"With Logan."
Anxiety nodded, heading back towards his studio and going down the ladder.
Anxiety looked at his latest painting, still on the easel. He was suddenly filled with anger. He hated this painting.
He grabbed a brush, dipping it in white paint and drawing an X over the entire painting.
"Dammit!" Anxiety threw his brush, letting it hit a canvas he'd painted black.
When he looked at the canvas...
It gave him an idea.
He shoved the hated painting off the easel, grabbing the black canvas and setting it up.
He grabbed a small brush, dipping it in the white paint and making a sketchy circle above the white blemish from the thrown brush.
He added diagonal lines; hair.
He added a mouth with gritted teeth.
He added two curved lines; an eye, wide open with fear.
Anxiety realized he was crying. He added a line falling from the eye.
He expanded the white mark, turning it into a body.
He added arms, bent towards the head as if covering the ears.
He added legs, curled up under the figure.
Anxiety wiped his eyes, washing off his brush.
He dipped it into the green paint.
His hands were shaking.
He added a green circle to the eye. Then he added a green X over the hair, where the other eye would be.
He washed his brush.
He dipped it into the purple paint.
He added an purple X over the green circle, matching his own left eye.
He made a sketchy painting of himself, curled up and crying as he covered his ears.
But he wasn't done.
He grabbed a bigger brush, and added hands pointing at the drawing of himself.
Starting on the left, arcing over to the right.
A green hand, for the one who's never home.
A light blue hand, for the one who called him "kiddo" but was never able to treat him like his kiddo.
He skipped one.
On the right, a yellow hand, for the one that always had an excuse.
And below that, a red hand, for the one he thought he loved, but who always seemed to have something better to do.
Finally, at the top, a pink hand, for the one he was supposed to protect.
Wait.
There was one missing.
Logan.
Logan had come to see every painting, never failing to arrive.
"Oh wow, Angel, that's beautiful! How long did it take to paint those flowers?"
"This one's even better! Virgil, is this you and Thomas?"
"...Virgil, its beautifully painted, but... Do you need to talk?"
Every painting, every stroke of the brush, Logan was there for him.
Anxiety painted one final hand.
A dark blue one, helping him cover his ears.
The painting needed something more.
He added two halves of a broken heart at the bottom, on either side of him. On the left, outlined in purple and colored in green. On the right, the opposite.
He was finished. And just in time; Thomas was calling him.
"Just a minute, Thomas!"
He laid down his brush and wiped his eyes again.
He'd done it. He'd finally made a painting showing how he really felt.
Once the paint had dried, he took the canvas and sank out, heading for Thomas' apartment.
"Hey, everyone."
"Hey, kiddo!"
Anxiety nervously rocked on his heels, clutching the painting.
"Why did you bring your painting this time?"
Anxiety felt tears running down his face again. "I just... This is one you guys... Really need to see."
Slowly, he turned the painting around.
Everyone went silent, staring at it.
"Anxiety... Bud, is this how you really feel?"
"Kiddo, why didn't you tell us?"
"Angel..."
Roman simply stared in silence.
Anxiety couldn't stop himself from sobbing.
"I-I'm sorry, I just... I didn't know how to tell you. You guys never came to see my work, and I... I..."
"Anxiety."
He looked up at Thomas.
"Take us to see your paintings."
"You... What?"
"You heard me. Take us to see your paintings."
Anxiety beamed through his tears. "O-Okay!"
He sank out, pulling everyone with him.
"This is my studio. It's actually the cellar, but we had no use for it so I took it."
Everyone looked around, awestruck by Anxiety's paintings.
"The ones hung up are my favorite ones. Look, Roman , this is the one I asked you to see! The angel, remember?"
It was a landscape-oriented painting of a large angel, with two rings blocking its eyes from view. The rings themselves were covered in eyes, one with green and one with purple. The angel was seen from a 3/4 angle, holding up its hands. In its hands was a small human, seemingly unaware they were being held at all.
"That's... More beautiful than I expected."
Anxiety blushed a bit. "It's, uh... Supposed to be me holding Thomas. Y'know, since it's my job to protect him, I kinda see myself as his guardian angel."
Thomas gazed at the painting. "I never thought of it that way, but now that you mention it..."
He turned away from the painting.
"Anxiety, I-"
"Virgil."
Thomas tilted his head. "What?"
"That's my name. Virgil."
Roman's eyes went wide as he heard the name. "Virgil, as in... Virgil Moriarty? The prince of Kora?"
Virgil chuckled nervously. "The one and only. But that's not important right now. What's important is that... You all cared enough to come see my paintings."
"Virgil, you're just as much a part of me as the others. Of course I care, even if I don't show it."
Virgil smiled.
Things were finally looking up for him.
If anyone wants to see the vent painting, here it is!
a/n: heeeyyyyyy, I’m back on the requests train. I like this one but the amount of editing I did for it is insane. Anyway, thank you @kittuppie for the request and I hope you enjoy!!! (p.s. if it’s not clear Virgil is crying because he believes his feelings for Logan are unrequited)
Pairings: analogical (Logan x Virgil)
Warnings: crying, curseing, unconsensual kiss (arguably accidental), and some miscommunication. We do things hurt/comfort style in this household baby!
Word count: 1,020
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Virgil leaned back into his weighted blanket. He rubbed his face, still sticky with tears, and tried to slow his ragged breathing.
He glanced down at his phone and cursed. He shouldn’t have sent that text, Logan didn’t need to know he was crying. No one did, but especially not the subject of his tears.
Roman just instinctively knows the look that each of the sides has before they're seconds from crying their eyes out. He doesn't know how he knows, he just does and there is nothing he can do to stop the sharp tug in his chest at the sight of those looks.
He knows that Patton always smiles, his eyes glossy behind his glasses.
He knows that Virgil clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms.
He knows that Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, turning his face away so that nobody can see.
He knows that Remus rocks himself with his entire body in an effort to distract himself.
For a while he didn't know what Janus did before he cried, for a long time he wasn't even sure if Janus even could cry given his snake eyes. But...
Seeing Janus stop breathing, and hold his breath as his human eye shimmered with unfallen tears, the very moment his name had been called stupid...
When Bruno suppresses his visions and this was before he learned to do his rituals, he would get massive migraines. It didn't help that the townsfolk disliked him which pushed him more to suppress his visions thus creating a painful cycle. Eventually as he got older he would accept his visions to avoid to the headaches but sometimes it's still there. Bruno hates his gift but feels guilty for hating it because his mother constantly reminded her children how they should appreciate the miracle and help the townsfolk. My headcanon is that he and Julieta get along better because she is understanding and more compassionate. Also she is the healer. Plus he doesn't want to emotionally burden Pepa because she suffers from anxiety just as much as he does. Sorry for the whump.
There wasn’t a single sound, the air was motionless, and darkness loomed in every direction. Shane thought he was outside, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. Every sense seemed dulled, but there might have been grass beneath his feet. Where had he left his shoes? He raised a hand to his head. His hair was wet.
They turned into headcanons about HOW Shane started to grow a crush on the farmer... Please enjoy!!
Shane started seeing the farmer almost every Friday in the Saloon which was standard because everyone was there anyway
He started seeing the farmer walk in on weekdays late at night, covered in dirt and scrapes
Shane grew very curious as the farmer continued to trudge in night after night covered in grime unless it was a Friday night and they walked in with their best casual clothes
One Thursday night he finally catches the farmer as they stand at the bar, ordering from Gus
Lifting his beer to his lips, Shane mutters a question to the farmer; asking where they were coming from so late at night.
He finds out the farmer was coming from the mines, making Shane’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He couldn’t believe the farmer would have the guts to go anywhere near there.
Curiosity gets the best over Shane, suddenly knowing a different side of the farmer that most of the people in the town didn’t know.
He begins to occasionally sit with the farmer on weekday nights at the saloon to listen to their stories about their encounters in the mines.
As the farmer progresses further into the mines, they start coming back to the saloon with worse injuries and Shane begins to worry for them-
Shane starts to get embarrassed because he isn’t used to caring for anybody other than Jas
The farmer is late to the saloon one night and Shane is sitting at the bar with a concerned look on his face, only for Gus and Willy to poke fun at him for liking the farmer.
